


Full Circle

by Emospritelet



Series: Drinking To Forget [10]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A Night at the Pink Palace, Alice being Alice, Awkward Bed Sharing, Belle Losing Patience, Emotional Sex, F/M, Lots of Crying, Oral Sex, Return to Storybrooke, Road Trips, Rumple Being a Gentleman, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 23:16:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13962198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emospritelet/pseuds/Emospritelet
Summary: Rumple wants to give Belle knowledge of the life they shared, and to find a way to break the curse for Alice and Gideon.  This means a trip to Storybrooke, and a night at his old house.  He tries to keep Belle at arm's length, but she has other ideas.





	Full Circle

**Author's Note:**

> Last time, Rumple managed to wake Belle from her curse, but she has no memory of him other than an odd sense of them being together, and Lacey’s memories of being in love with him.  Which won’t make her weirdly attracted to him at all...

Belle had taken the breaking of her curse with calm acceptance.  Certainly she was dealing with things better than he was, but that wouldn’t be anything new.  He left her sitting on the couch, looking around herself as though trying to make sense of the two worlds she knew, and he went to make some tea.  Lacey had preferred coffee, but he suspected Belle would want tea. He turned out to be correct; she smiled up at him when he handed her a steaming mug, and it was all he could do to not break down and sob on her shoulder.

He lowered himself onto the couch next to her, cradling his own mug in his hands.  Belle was shooting curious looks at him, and he wondered what she was thinking.

“I have a suggestion,” he said hesitantly.  “I think - I think it might be best if you moved into my apartment for a little while.  We don’t know whether the person that brought you here is awake, after all. Or what they might do if they see you.”

“That makes sense,” she agreed.  “I’d feel safer with you, anyway.”

He nodded.  _One less thing to worry about._

“When you’ve finished your tea, pack some things, and we’ll go over there,” he said.  “Can you call in sick to work this week?”

Belle wrinkled her nose.

“I’m sure I can make something up,” she said.

“Good.”

There was silence again, and she sipped at her tea, watching him over the rim of her cup as though he was the most fascinating creature she had ever seen.

“Who else from our land is here?” she asked.  “My father?”

He shook his head.

“No, he’s not here,” he said.  “He’s safe, though.”   _And still hating my guts.  Feeling’s bloody mutual._

“There aren’t many people here from the Enchanted Forest,” he added.  “Regina is perhaps one of the few that you’d know.”

“The Evil Queen?”  She shook her head, shuddering a little.  “I never saw her, but word of her atrocities spread to my father’s lands.  From what I hear her name was well-earned.”

“It was,” he agreed.  “But she changed. Very much for the better.  She’s on the side of good, now.”

“Really?”  She chewed her lip.   “So she’s not the one that cast the curse?”

“Not this curse,” he admitted.  “But yes, she did cast a curse. A long time ago.  It brought us all to this land. Your father, your people: they’re all here in this world.  Those who chose to stay, anyway. Some have returned.”

“Really?”  She looked interested.  “So it’s possible to go back?  With a - a portal, or a talisman, or something?”

“It is,” he agreed.  “There's a supply of magic beans I know of.  Regina helped to make that possible.  I - I don’t want you to think that you can’t trust her, Belle.  You can, I promise.”

“So she’s someone I know,” said Belle slowly, and glanced up at him.  “Roni?”

“You always had a sense about people,” he said, with a grin.  “Yes, it’s Roni. She’s not awake, though. Not yet.”

“And the others I know?” she asked.  “Jacinda? Henry?”

“Henry’s from this world,” he said.  “But he’s also Regina’s adopted son. It’s - well, the family tree has always been a little complicated.  And Jacinda is from another world, but not the Enchanted Forest.”

“I’m beginning to think I should be writing this down,” she remarked.  “What about Detective French?”

Rumple closed his eyes, his heart clenching.

“Again, he’s from this world,” he said quietly.  “Look - why don’t we save the questions for later, when we’re back at the apartment?  I’m sure you have a hundred things you want to ask me, but let’s get you settled first, hmm?”

He pushed to his feet, slurping his tea, and feeling her eyes on his back.

* * *

It didn’t take long for her to pack; Lacey had travelled light, and had few possessions other than clothes and a few books.  Belle took all of those, and clicked her tongue at how few they were.

“I’ll be hitting up your bookshelves, by the way,” she said, sounding almost like Lacey again.  It made him smile.

"Be my guest."

He carried her case to the car, eyes flicking back and forth as they crossed the street, alert for any danger.  The journey was made in relative silence, but he noticed her gazing curiously out of the window, as though she were seeing the world for the first time.  Belle stayed close by his side as they walked up the stairs to his apartment, and he tried not to swear at the pain in his chest, made worse by carrying her things.  His hands shook a little as he unlocked the door to the apartment, and he sighed with relief as he dropped the case onto the bed.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, going back through to the kitchen, where she was looking in the fridge.  “I don’t think I have much in the house, but we could order a pizza or something.”

“Sounds good,” she said absently.  “I’ll have prosciutto and mushroom.  Maybe some olives.”

She shut the fridge door and turned, her brows drawing down.

“What’s that on your chest?” she asked.

“What?”

She pointed with a finger, to the space just above his heart, and he glanced down.  A dark stain was spreading on the cotton, and he swore under his breath.

“You’re bleeding!” she exclaimed.

“I’ll be alright.”

Belle gave him a level look.

“You have a gunshot wound in your chest,” she said.  “It must have opened up again. Why didn’t you let me carry that bag upstairs?”

He didn’t answer, and she sighed, pointing at the chairs.

“Sit down,” she said firmly.  “And get that shirt off.  We’d better take a look.  Do you have gauze or anything?”

“Uh - medical supplies are in the bottom cupboard,” he said, gesturing.

Elements of Lacey kept coming through in her manner, and it was making him want to grin.  He sat down on one of the chairs, and she brought out the little box and set it on the counter, taking out gauze and cotton and tape.  Her eyes flicked over to him.

“Do you expect me to take that shirt off myself?” she asked dryly, and he flushed a little, fingers flying to unbutton it.

Shrugging out of the shirt made him bite his lip in pain, and he sighed as he saw a deep red blossom of blood on his white undershirt.  Belle pulled another chair around so that she could sit opposite.

“Can you take that off?” she asked.  “Or do you want me to do it?”

He hesitated.

“It - it might be easier if you cut it off,” he admitted.  “Do you mind?”

She sent him a very flat look.

“It’s not as though I haven’t seen you half-naked before, now is it?”

He supposed that was true.

She hunted in the kitchen drawers for a pair of scissors, finding some and cutting through the shoulder straps of the undershirt and down the front before taking it off him.  Blood had seeped through the dressing, and she peeled it off with cool, gentle fingers, laying it aside and peering at the wound.

“Looks like you burst a stitch,” she observed.  “Maybe you should get to the hospital.”

“There are paper stitches in the box,” he said.  “Those will do for now. As long as the rest are holding I’ll be fine.”

Belle muttered  _“Men!”_  under her breath, but used cotton and antiseptic to clean off the blood, which made him grit his teeth as it stung and burned.  She pressed two of the adhesive paper stitches over the wound, and followed it up with a pad of gauze, stuck down with tape. Her fingers slid over the tape, brushing against his skin, and she raised her eyes to meet his, the tip of her tongue wetting her lips.  Her hands were cool, but for a brief moment he remembered how hot her skin could be, how she could burn him with her touch and her kiss. How good she felt beneath him.

He shoved the thoughts away, but from the blush in her cheeks he thought he might not have been the only one remembering their times together.  She swallowed, sitting back in the chair.

“There,” she said.  “Try not to burst it open again.”

“Right,” he said.  “Thank you.”

He got to his feet, putting the ruined undershirt in the trash and taking the blood-stained shirt to the sink to run some water over it.  Belle had wandered off, but after a moment she returned with a clean shirt for him. He drew it on, buttoning it, and nodded his thanks.

“Let’s order that pizza,” he said, and she smiled.

“Wouldn’t say no to a glass of wine, either, if you have it.”

* * *

Much later, after night had fallen, the pizza had been eaten, and the wine drunk, Rumple lay on the couch staring up at the ceiling, a blanket pulled up to his chin.  He only had a one-bed, and of course that meant that he had offered his room to Belle, and had refused to let her sleep on the couch. So he was there, currently doing anything but sleeping.  Too much light came through the blinds from the streetlights outside, the couch cushions weren’t nearly as comfortable when one was lying on them, and he wondered how Gideon had ever gotten any rest on the bloody thing.

Belle had wanted to talk, about her father, and her people, and their lives in the Enchanted Forest, and he had tried to answer her questions as best he could without lying to her.  To tell her that she was no longer speaking to her father, and hadn’t been for decades, would only have upset her. He needed to find a way to let her remember their lives together, and he was starting to have the first inklings of an idea of how he could make that work.

“Rumplestiltskin?”

Belle’s voice made him look around, and he clutched the blanket around him a little tighter as she walked over.  She was wearing one of his shirts, just as Lacey had done, the pale light shining on the lengths of her legs.  Moonlight shone through the shirt, showing the shape of her body beneath it, and he tried not to stare.

“Is it alright if I call you that?” she asked, and he nodded.

“I think when we leave the apartment, you should call me Weaver, though,” he added.  “Just in case. And I’ll still call you Lacey. We don’t know if the curse has broken for anyone else, after all.”

“That makes sense,” she agreed, and he shifted position, sitting up a little.

“Is there - is there something you wanted?”

Belle sighed, throwing up her arms in a frustrated gesture.

“This is silly!” she said firmly.  “You can’t possibly sleep out here on that couch!  Why don’t we just share the bed?”

“I - ah - I didn’t think it appropriate—”

“Oh, I don’t care about propriety!” she said, her voice impatient.  “I care that the man who broke my curse is rested enough to protect me from whoever out there wants to do me harm!”

Rumple scratched his head, trying not to grin.

“Well, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.

“I realise that we were cursed, but we’ve both seen each other naked dozens of times!” she went on.  “I’m sure we can share a bed without your head exploding!”

“Right,” he said, amused by her frankness, and wondering how much of that was Lacey's, and how much her own.  “Fair point.”

He threw back the blanket, getting up and following her through.  He had given her a pair of cotton pants and a T-shirt to wear, but she had left them on the end of the bed and put on his shirt instead.  She slipped beneath the covers on her usual side, patting the bed beside her.

“Come on then,” she said.  “I don’t bite.”

He hesitated for a moment, but then got in beside her, pulling the blankets up over them.

“That’s better,” she said softly, snuggling down in the pillows.  “At least now I know you'll get some sleep.  Goodnight, Rumplestiltskin.”

“Goodnight, Belle.”

It was far more comfortable lying in the bed than on the couch, but he doubted he would sleep.  He could smell her beside him, a wonderful, familiar scent, and he wanted to take her in his arms and bury his nose in her hair and breathe her in.  He had missed her so, so much, had wept buckets of tears over losing her. And yet she was alive. Young and healthy and perfect and alive.  He was almost afraid to sleep, in case this was another of his dreams.  Those had been plentiful enough, in the months following her passing.  He recalled the joy and contentment he had felt upon waking, only to turn to bitter grief as he had reached out for her in their bed to find nothing but cold emptiness.

“You knew my name.”

Her voice made his eyes flick open, and he turned his head.  Moonlight was shining in through the curtains, enough that he could make out her features.  She was lying on her side, watching him.

“Yes,” he said softly.

“But I don’t remember you,” she went on.  “Did we meet? Back in our land, did we know each other?”

He hesitated, tempted by the thought of an instant denial, but she had a right to know.

“Yes,” he said eventually.  “Yes, we knew each other. I think - I think that when you were snatched out of your time, it was perhaps a few months before we first met.”

“Oh.”  She was silent for a moment.  “And - and what was I to you?”

“I - I think you should try to get some rest,” he began.

“Please!” she said urgently.  “It’s like - it’s like I’m supposed to know something, but my mind can’t quite grasp it.  What was I to you?”

He was silent, desperately trying to think of the least upsetting way to explain things.

“You called me by my name,” she said.  “You said that I - that  _Lacey_  - wasn’t Belle.”

He closed his eyes, and she shifted a little closer.

“You said - you said that Belle died, and - and that you buried your heart with her.”

“Yes,” he whispered.  “Yes, I did.”

“So what was I to you?” she asked softly.  “Please tell me.”

He sighed, turning onto his side to face her.

“We were married,” he said.  “You were my wife. My true love.”

Her eyes widened, her lips parting in shock.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly.  “I realise this must be upsetting—”

“No,” she interrupted.  “No, I - I’m not upset. I’m - adjusting, I suppose.”

There was silence for a moment, and he watched her worrying her lower lip with her teeth, but then she smiled, her eyes glinting mischievously.

“Well,” she said.  “I suppose that makes all the bedroom activities more acceptable.”

He stared at her, then broke into sudden, unexpected laughter.  She giggled in response, and nestled into the pillows a little more, smiling up at him.

“This is so strange,” she said softly.  “Talking about my - my future with you, as though it were my past.  I suppose it’s  _your_ past, and my future.  Magic is - strange.”

“That’s certainly true,” he agreed.

She put a hand on his chest, fingertips gently stroking, an intimate, almost unconscious gesture as she chewed her lower lip.

“Did we - did we have children?” she asked hesitantly, and he smiled.

“A son.”

“Only one?”  She looked disappointed, and he wanted to kiss her.

“Oh, we wanted others,” he said.  “Sometimes these things aren’t meant to be.”  

“I understand.”  Her fingers were still stroking, her touch burning him.  “What was his name?”

“Gideon.”

“Gideon.”  Her brow furrowed, and then her eyes widened in understanding.  “The book! The book that Alice gave me! Is she from our world too?”

“A different world,” he confirmed.  “She remembers flashes of her old life.  She senses things, but she doesn’t remember much.  I need a way to wake her too.”

“And do you have any ideas?”

“A few,” he admitted.  “Nothing solid, not yet, but give me time.”

“That, apparently, is something I have,” she said dryly, and he chuckled.

“We should get some sleep,” he said.

“We should.”

He saw her close her eyes, but he was awake for a long time, listening to her even breathing, breathing in her scent and watching her body twitch and move in her sleep.

* * *

Rumple awoke warm and content, a body pressed against his and the scent of Belle in his nose.  At some point in the night they had turned to one another in sleep, wrapping their arms around each other.  She was pressed against his chest, her head tucked under his chin and an arm thrown around his waist. He squeezed his eyes shut, barely able to believe that she was there in his arms again.  But it wasn’t right. She didn’t know him. Not properly.

He shifted, loosening his grip, and her eyes fluttered and opened, fixing on his.

“Hey,” she whispered, and he smiled briefly.

“Hey,” he said.  “I’m sorry - it - ah - it appears we ended up tangled around one another.”

Belle smiled, a beautiful, lazy sort of smile.  The sort of smile that had led to them staying in bed late on many a morning.  He told himself to get a bloody grip and drag his mind out of the gutter.

“I don’t mind,” she said.  “You - you look like you want to kiss me.  Are you going to?”

He licked his lips, and her eyes flicked to his mouth.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, hating himself for every word that danced off his tongue.

“Why not?”  She pursed her lips a little, her gaze calculating.  “According to you I’ll be your wife. At some point. And it’s not as though we don’t know how good it would be.”

“Yes.”  He leaned back, putting gentle hands on her shoulder and pushing back from her.  “But - but there are many things you don’t know, Belle. About - about us. What we went through.  What—” He closed his eyes for a moment. “What I put you through. We were blissfully happy for a long time, but the early days of our relationship were - well, we had a lot of problems.”

“Why?” she asked curiously.

His mouth twitched.  _How do I tell her she married the Dark One?_

“I was a difficult man to love,” he said eventually.  “But you managed it anyway. Still, I think it’s best if I try to - perhaps ‘restore’ isn’t the right word - capture the moments of your life that were scattered along the timeline, the moments you can almost remember.  Maybe I can return them to you, whole. So you can remember - everything.”

Belle blinked at him, curiosity burning in her gaze.  Gods, she was beautiful.

“Can you do that?” she whispered.

“I can,” he said, sounding more confident than he felt.  “But not here. It’ll mean a journey.”

Her eyes brightened with interest, and he tried to hide his smile.

“A journey?” she said excitedly.  “Do I get to come?”

“Your presence will be essential,” he assured her, and she beamed, but then she looked thoughtful.

“You want to give me back those moments,” she said.  “So - you have magic.”

“Not here,” he said.  “Not enough to count, anyway.  There is no magic in this land, other than what was brought from other realms.  I have a tiny amount. Enough to get us out of here and on our way to Storybrooke.  Once we’re there, then yes. I’ll have all the magic I need.”

“Storybrooke,” she said slowly.  “Yes. That’s familiar to me.”

She eyed him shrewdly, her gaze calculating.

“You’re not just a spinner, are you?” she said.  “No matter what your name is in this world. Are you going to tell me who you really are?”

He hesitated, but nodded.

“Yes,” he said.  “Yes, Belle, I’ll tell you who I really am.  I’ll do better than that. I’ll help you remember.”

* * *

Belle wasn’t sure what the correct response was for someone who had been snatched from their life, transported to another world, and cursed to live as a hard-drinking fast-food worker, but she was feeling surprisingly calm about it.  At least, she reasoned, she was safe here. Rumplestiltskin seemed to want to keep her at arm’s length and treat her as though she was made of porcelain, which was both frustrating and endearing. She knew that he loved her; she could see it in his eyes whenever he looked at her: deep, pure love mixed with awe and wonder at her being alive again.  She supposed that if she were in his place, she would feel the same. He had called them true love, and she knew he wasn’t lying, even if she had no knowledge of him from her old life, her old world. There was certainly a connection there, and she wanted to hiss in frustration at how close she felt to breaking through the wall thrown up around her sense of her future self.  She wanted to know him, as well as he knew her.

He made her breakfast: scrambled eggs with toast and butter and lots of hot tea, after which he went into the lounge to make some calls while she went to wash her face and get dressed.  She put on one of Lacey’s more comfortable outfits: a tight-fitting woollen dress over thick tights. It was short; none of Lacey’s dresses went below mid-thigh, but she figured there were more important things to worry about than how much leg she was showing.  No one seemed to care in this world, anyway. Besides, the clothes were comfortable. She put a loose, off-the-shoulder sweater over the top and tied up her hair, securing it with pins and putting on her usual lipstick. It was oddly comforting, as though Lacey was still with her.

Rumplestiltskin spent the morning sitting on one of the chairs and staring into space, his fingers working in the air, twisting together in an unconscious gesture that she suspected meant that he was thinking hard.  Belle watched him, curled on the couch with a book, her legs folded under her. She thought that he was planning on how to return her memories to her, and she wondered who he really was. Certainly not a mere spinner, although she remembered that he had the calluses on his fingers that one would expect from that trade.  No mere spinner had such knowledge of magic (or would have been permitted to marry her, if her father had had any say). She wondered how their paths had crossed. How they had fallen in love.

A knock at the door made her look up from her book, and she glanced at Rumplestiltskin.  He frowned a little, getting up.

“Remember, you’re Lacey,” he said quietly, and she nodded.

He looked through the peephole in the door, smiling a little before opening it up.

“Hey.”  Detective French stomped in, rubbing warmth back into his hands.  “My bag’s in the car. What’s the big emergency, and why are we taking a road trip to Maine?”

He stopped as his eyes met Belle’s and his face brightened.

“Lacey!” he said.  “You two made up!”

“Kind of,” said Belle carelessly, wrinkling her nose.  “We’re working on it, anyway.”

“Lacey will be coming with us,” said Rumplestiltskin.  “Did you manage to get in touch with Alice?”

“I did,” said French, looking a little bewildered.  “She asked if we could pick her up at the warehouse.  Um - why is she coming?”

“She’s my top informant, and she’s able to sneak into places I can’t,” he said.  “We’ll need her where we’re going. Trust me, it’s for the best.”

French looked even more puzzled.

“Look, I checked out that piece of evidence you asked for,” he said.  “You know it’s not supposed to leave the station, right? If Griffin finds out, I’m a dead man.”

“She won’t,” said Rumplestiltskin firmly.  “Where is it?”

French reached inside his coat, drawing out a long metal box with a lock on it.

“One ornamental kris dagger,” he said.  “This wasn’t even connected to the murders.  How is it relevant?”

“I’ll explain everything later,” said Rumplestiltskin, taking the box and shoving it inside his own jacket.  He turned to Belle. “Are you ready? Where’s your case?”

“In the bedroom,” she said dryly.  “And French can carry it to the car.  I’m not having you burst your stitches again.”

“You burst your stitches?” said French, folding his arms.  “Are you sure we should be doing this? You’re supposed to be on leave.  You know, because of the whole being shot thing that you seem to be ignoring.”

“I promise not to overdo it,” he said impatiently.  “Don’t gang up on me, the pair of you! Come on, let’s get going.  I want to cover a decent amount of ground before we have to stop for the night.”

* * *

Alice was waiting when they pulled up outside the warehouse, and climbed into the back seat next to Gideon with a cheerful greeting and a toss of her blonde curls.

“I see you crazy kids are back together,” she said, winking at Belle.  “I knew that whole break-up thing wouldn’t last.”

“We’re - um - working on it,” said Belle awkwardly.  “It’s not exactly that we’re back together.”

“And it’s none of your business,” added Rumple sternly.

Alice stuck out her tongue, but said nothing further, and Rumple pulled away, heading out of the city, Belle seated beside him watching everything with interest.

“So what’s in Maine that’s so important?” asked Alice, and he glanced at her in the mirror.

“Evidence I need to solve a mystery,” he said.  “I brought you along because I think I’ll need your help.”

He held her gaze for a moment, and she gave him a brief nod, to show that she understood.  She kept her tone light, though.

“Hey, a road trip where I get to see some of this country, and you’re buying the food, can only be a good thing,” she said.  “Can we go to Yellowstone? I’ve always wanted to see that.”

“This isn’t an opportunity for tourism,” he said.  “I’m aiming to get us there as quickly as I can, not stop to see the sights.”

“So why didn’t we fly?” asked Gideon.  “We could have been there in hours.”

“I very much doubt Alice has photo ID.”

“Yeah, but if you think I couldn’t get some, you’d be wrong,” said Alice.  “Just give me a few days.”

“By which point we’ll be in Maine,” he said dryly, and she grumbled.

“You shouldn’t be driving for hours, anyway,” she said.  “Are you sure you’re even alright to be up and about? I thought you were supposed to be resting.”

“That’s what I told him,” said Gideon, and Rumple rolled his eyes.

“I’m fine!” he said impatiently.  “I’ll be making you take over the driving at some point, anyway.”

“Okay, so if we’re stuck in this car for hours we need to play a game,” said Alice.

“No we don’t.”

“Licence plate game?”

“No!” said Rumple.

“We could sing a really annoying song,” she suggested.

“Ninety-nine bottles of beer?” said Gideon.

“Don’t make me reach back there!” Rumple snapped, and Alice burst out laughing.

* * *

They drove for ten hours, finally stopping for the night at a motel near Bozeman.  Rumple rubbed tired eyes as he paid for two rooms, one for he and Gideon to share, and the other for Belle and Alice.  Belle had spoken little on the trip, looking out at the scenery as the car passed, and sending him a smile now and then.  Fortunately after a couple of hours Alice had fallen asleep, so the drive had been relatively peaceful. He was tired now, and resolved to have Gideon drive a little more the next day.  He reckoned that he could make the trip in three days, if he and Gideon shared the driving. It was strange to be returning to Storybrooke. Not like going home, because he hadn’t considered it home for a long time, but there was an odd sort of nostalgia there, nonetheless.  He would miss not having Belle in his arms again, though. Sharing a bed with her had been the most exquisite sort of torture.

Belle yawned as she climbed into one of the twin beds, snuggling down and pulling up the blankets.  She could hear Alice getting into the other one, and felt relief as the light was turned out. It had been a long day, and she was tired.

“So,” said Alice.  “I take it he broke your curse.”

Belle turned around in the bed, wriggling until she faced Alice.

“You know about that?” she said.

“I’m the one who told him to do it,” she said.  “I don’t have my memories - still caught by this bloody curse - but I can see flashes of stuff.  Hints of my real life. I remember him, you know. From my world.”

“And me?” asked Belle, but Alice shook her head.

“You and I never met,” she said.  “What - uh - what did he tell you?”

“That I died,” said Belle.  “And that we were married. We even had a son.”

“Yes.”  Alice sounded amused.  “He’s a good man, is Rumplestiltskin, even if he doesn’t think so.”

“He says he wants to give me back my memories,” said Belle.  “The things I can sense, from my future life. He wants to restore them.”

“The reason for this road trip, no doubt,” said Alice.  “I guess he couldn’t really explain that with Detective French sitting there clueless.”

Belle’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and she could see Alice grin, teeth shining in the dim light.

“Are you going to kiss him?” she asked.  “You look as though you want to every time you look at him.”

“I think he’d jump out of his skin,” said Belle dryly.  “He’s treating me like I’m made of glass or something. Like he didn’t pick me up and shove me against the wall a few short weeks ago.”

Alice giggled.

“So tell him how you feel,” she said.  “Make the first move.”

“Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow?”  Belle’s voice was wry. “I can’t see that happening between here and Maine.  Not unless Detective French sleeps  _really_  deeply.”

Alice giggled again.

“Maybe when we get there, then,” she said.  “I’ve never been to Storybrooke.”

“Nor me,” said Belle.  “But - but I’ve heard of it, if that makes sense.  There’s a - a familiarity there.”

“I hope he finds whatever it is he’s looking for,” said Alice.  “The sooner we can all remember who we are, the better.”

“I hope so too,” said Belle.  “Goodnight, Alice.”

“Goodnight, Belle.”  Alice grinned at her, eyes gleaming in the darkness.  “Sleep well, and dream of being picked up and shoved against the wall.”

* * *

The trip took three more days, three long days of constant driving, and they were all tired by the time they reached the little town in Maine.  Rumple shivered as the car rolled past the welcome sign, as though someone had walked over his grave. He could feel the magic pour into him, as though it had been waiting for him, and it made him grit his teeth.

“This place feels - weird,” said Gideon, and Rumple smiled a little.  No doubt he felt the magic too.

“I’m hoping we won’t have to be here too long,” he said.  “We can be on our way back in a couple of days.”

It was after ten in the evening, and he was relieved that they were entering the town under cover of darkness.  He wanted to get in and out of the place without being seen, if he could.

“Where are we staying?” asked Alice, with interest, as they drove through the town.  “There’s an inn there. Looks cosy.”

“No, we won’t be staying there,” said Rumple calmly.  “We’ll be staying at my house.”

“You - you have a house here?” asked Gideon, surprised.  “So this used to be your home? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It hasn’t been my home for a long time,” said Rumple.  “There’s something here that I need, and this is the only place I can get it.  That’s all. I have no interest in this town or its inhabitants, and I’d rather none of them knew I was here.”

“Guess that means we’re buying the food,” said Alice, nudging Gideon.

The car rolled through town, turning off on the familiar road to where his old pink Victorian still stood.  Rumple pulled up outside, grinning to himself at Belle’s curious face.

“Your house is pink, Detective,” said Alice.  “Not what I would have expected from you. I was thinking more along the lines of turrets and battlements and maybe a sex dungeon.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he said dryly, as Belle giggled.

He had set wards on the house before leaving, and it was simple enough process to take them down with a brief, invisible flare of magic.  There was no dust on anything; his spells had ensured that the house was as clean as he had left it. The magic didn’t extend to keeping food fresh, though, and Alice was right.  They would need to buy some provisions in the morning.

“Let’s get settled in,” he said.  “Long day tomorrow.”

* * *

Rumple reasoned that it was fortunate that he had four bedrooms, although Belle gave him an odd look when he allocated one to her.  She didn’t say anything though, just went into the bathroom with her toothbrush, and Rumple said goodnight to Alice and Gideon before ducking into his own room.  It was a relief to get out of the jeans and shirt and put on a pair of his old silk pyjamas. To be back in his old bedroom, in the room he had shared with Belle for a brief time before they left Storybrooke to travel.  To draw back the covers of the bed they had shared so many times. It made him smile a little wistfully to think of it.

The box with the dagger was sitting on his dresser, and he stared at it for a moment before flicking his fingers and making the lock spring open.  The dagger gleamed in the light from the lamps, and he curled his lip at it, hating the thing. He didn’t want to touch it, but he told himself that was ridiculous.  Symbol of his curse it might be, but ultimately it was a tool that he could use like any other. A tool to bring Belle back to him. He locked the box again and got into bed, his body tired from days spent driving, and yet wired and thrumming with magic, his skin tingling with it.  It was doubtful that he would sleep, but then he didn’t need to. Not here. It wouldn’t hurt to lie in the dark and at least rest his eyes for awhile, though. Even if all he saw when he closed them was an endless stream of road markings. Days on the road would do that, it seemed.

He lay with his arms behind his head, running over the final plans for the magic he intended to perform.  Waking Gideon shouldn’t be too difficult, he hoped; he had asked Belle to bring her book, and he was hoping that would be enough.  It was Alice that was causing him concern, and he had yet to ask what she had brought as her most prized possession, as he had instructed.  He hoped that the fact that she remembered some of her old life boded well for breaking the curse. Belle would be more difficult. There was no curse there to be broken; what he faced was far more complex.  He had to pluck the fragments she held in her head and try to restore them in full, to make the life she had not yet lived a reality in her mind. It would be one of the most difficult pieces of magic he had performed, and a part of him was enjoying the mental challenge.  He lay in the darkness, starting at the beginning and going through the spell once more, seeing the threads of magic in his mind, an intricate lace of gleaming strands.

A soft knock at the door made him start, and he pushed up on the heels of his hands.

“Yes?”

The door opened, and Belle put her head around, dark curls falling over her face before she brushed them back.

“Hey,” she said.  “Can I come in?”

“Uh—”  He ran a hand through his hair.  “Of course. Is there something wrong?”

“Not exactly.”

Belle shut the door behind her, turning to face him.  She was wearing a pair of Lacey’s PJs: black pants with little pink cat paw prints and a tight black top with a stylised pink cat, sleeping with its tail curled over its nose.  Her skin was very pale in the moonlight, and she was looking unsure of herself.

“Actually, there is something wrong,” she said.

“What is it?” he asked.  “If there’s anything I can do…”

Belle threw up her arms, looking frustrated.

“This is ridiculous!” she said crossly.  “And - and  _you’re_  being ridiculous!  Why did you put me in that room?  I was perfectly happy with our old sleeping arrangements.”

Rumple opened and closed his mouth.

“Well, we only had the one bed,” he said.  “I thought you might appreciate some space, that’s all.”

“You thought wrong,” she said, sounding irritated.  “I want to sleep with you. If that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay.”  He shifted over, making some room in the bed.  “I’ll try not to roll into you in the night this time.”

Belle sat down on the edge of the bed, moonlight gleaming on her cheeks and in her eyes as she grinned.

“Oh, I didn’t mind that,” she said.  “Perhaps I wasn’t clear. I want to sleep with you again.  In - in every sense, I mean.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, flicking them open to stare at her.  She was watching him with wide eyes, her lips parted, her breathing a little quicker than normal, and he wanted to kiss her so badly it hurt.  She leaned in a little, and he pulled back.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said quietly, and she sighed.

“You don’t want me?”

“Oh, sweetheart!” he breathed, reaching up to cup her cheek.  “Oh gods, I want you! I want you so much!”

“Then I don’t understand.”

She leaned closer, pressing her forehead to his, and he breathed in her scent, felt the warmth of her smooth skin beneath his palm.  Her eyes were large and dark, her breath cool against his mouth. The tip of her tongue flickered out to wet her lips, and he wanted to taste her.

“If - if you want me,” she whispered.  “Why won’t you take me?”

He sighed, dropping his hand to his side and wishing that there was an easy way to explain.  Belle’s expression changed from curious to apologetic.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “Forget I said anything.  I understand that it might seem sudden to you, and - and it’s not like you owe me an answer, or a reason.  Maybe I should leave you alone.”

She made to stand up, and he reached for her hand, holding her there.

“No,” he said softly.  “No, Belle, don’t go. Please.”

She settled back down beside him, threading her fingers through his.  There was a moment of silence, and he studied the curves of her face as she glanced to the side, the swell of her cheeks and the soft lines of her lips.  Belle looked back at him, moonlight reflected in her eyes.

“I realise this is new for you too,” she said, in a low voice.  “The curse breaking. Remembering who you are.”

“That’s part of it,” he admitted.  “It’s not that I don’t want you, Belle, believe me I do.  But there - there are things you don’t know about me. Important things.”

“So you say,” she said, with a touch of impatience.  “And you think it would change the way I feel about you, right?  It can’t possibly be anything that terrible.”

“I beg to differ,” he said dryly.

“So tell me what this big, dark secret is,” she insisted.  “You said I was your wife. Your true love.”

“You are.”

“And you said we were blissfully happy,” she added.  “So it’s not as though you’d be taking advantage.”

“Yes,” he said patiently, “but—”

“And I know that I don’t remember everything,” she went on, her voice softening.  “But I don’t need to to understand how I feel.”

She shifted closer, reaching up slowly to touch his cheek, her fingertips sending a shiver through him.  _Fuck, I’m gonna have to tell her.  I_ need _to tell her._

“I want to be with you,” she whispered.  “I know you love me, and you just said that you want me, so—”

“Belle, I’m the Dark One,” he interrupted, and her mouth snapped shut, her eyes bulging a little as her hand dropped to her side.

_“What?”_

Rumple sighed, running a hand over his face.  She was watching him, her eyes wide, a hint of disbelief in them.

“I’m the Dark One,” he said heavily.

“You can’t be,” she said, shaking her head.  “I - I read descriptions! They all said the Dark One was some sort of demon, all scales and claws.”

“Not here,” he said.  “In the Enchanted Forest, yes.  But not here.”

She was staring at him with narrowed eyes, as though she didn’t believe him, and he sighed again.

“A few months after the point in time you were taken from, you summoned me,” he said.  “Or I should say your father did, but it was your idea. You were desperate to stop the ogres, to save your people.  Desperate enough to offer yourself to me in return.”

Belle licked her lips.

“I - offered myself to you?”

“As a servant,” he added hastily.  “Nothing more than that. I never expected more, never asked for it.  And yet we fell in love. Against all the odds, true love found a way.”

“I married the Dark One?”  Her voice was flat, but there was a hint of amusement there, too.  “Absolutely no one at court back home would be surprised, you know.”

She giggled, her eyes sparkling, and he blinked.

“Did you - did you hear what I said?”

“Of course I heard,” she said, and pursed her lips.  “And I refuse to believe that you were as dark as they say.”

“Oh, believe me, I was,” he said grimly.

“Hmm.”  She looked amused.  “I read about you, you know.  And of all the tales I read, all the horror stories about a baby-stealing imp or a trickster who had the audacity to hold the nobility to the deals they made, there was one thing that all the tales agreed on.”

“And what was that?” he asked, and she smiled.

“That you kept your word,” she said.  “That all magic had a price, and that price was never more than the person could pay.”

“Yes,” he said softly.

“So if you made your deal with me, and I was willing to pay your price, it was a fair bargain, was it not?”

He didn’t answer.  He was well aware who had gotten the best of that bargain.  Belle leaned forward, reaching up to stroke his hair back.

“You don’t seem so very dark to me, Rumplestiltskin,” she said gently.  “I think you’re a good man, even if you don’t.”

“You don’t know everything,” he whispered, and she shook her head.

“True, but I suspect the tale would take a long time to tell, and it’s late,” she said.  “Am I still welcome in your bed, or not?”

He looked up, surprised.

“You still want to?  Even after…”

“I still want you.”  She tugged at her lower lip, looking uncertain.  “Do you still want me?”

He swallowed, nodding.

“Yes,” he whispered.  “Yes, Belle, I want you.”

She smiled then, reaching out to rest her hand on his thigh.

“I thought - I thought it might be like our first time,” she said.  “I know it isn’t, not after everything we did, but - but then I was Lacey, and you were Weaver, and now - well, now we’re not.”  Her lips pursed a little. “I miss Lacey, in a way.”

“Oh, I think she’s still in there,” he said, with a grin, and she returned the smile.

“Will you tell me about our first time?”

“It was here,” he said, and patted the sheets beside him.  “Here, in this very bed.”

“Not in the Enchanted Forest?”  She looked surprised, and he shook his head.

“We had been separated for a long time,” he said.  “Years, in fact. And then you came back to me.”

“Like now,” she whispered, and his smile widened.

“Like now,” he agreed.  “So I brought you here, and I gave you your own room, and you came looking for me in the middle of the night, and told me not to be such an idiot.  _Just_  like now, in fact.”

He was grinning, and she shot him a flat look.

“I didn’t say ‘idiot’…”

“And then you kissed me,” he went on.  “And I was lost.”

She smiled nervously, reaching up to cup his cheek, her palm warm against his skin.

“And - and was it good?” she asked softly.

“It was perfect,” he whispered.  “It was always perfect, Belle. Soft and gentle in the night, sleepy and slow in the dawn.  Even when we were angry with each other, and it was rough and hard and passionate. It was always perfect.”

She shifted nearer, resting her brow against his, her thumb rasping over his stubble, and she was so close, so  _real_ , that he could barely breathe.

“I’d like to try that,” she said softly.  “All of it. Soft and gentle, slow and sleepy, rough and hard and passionate.  I want to do all of that with you.”

“All of it?” he murmured, his nose grazing hers.  “Good thing the Dark Curse gave me all that stamina, hmm?”

“Ah, so  _that’s_  the reason!”

She was giggling a little, and her hands had sunk into his hair.  His lips brushed hers, his hands rising up to stroke through her curls, thumbs stroking over her cheeks.  Her scent was divine, the feel of her skin like silk beneath his hands, and his heart was thumping hard in his chest, his need for her almost too much to bear.  She kissed him a little clumsily, and he inhaled deeply, pulling the scent of her in through his nose, his tongue gently sliding into her mouth as his fingers tightened in her hair.  The taste of her was exquisite, and his hands were almost shaking as he cradled her head, his tongue stroking against hers. Belle moaned, moving closer, hands sliding down over his chest and around his back to tug herself against him.

He deepened the kiss, a tiny groan rumbling out of him as he tasted her, their mouths wet and hot.  She was pressing against him, her breasts firm, her body warm, and he wanted to peel the clothes from her, to lie her down in the bed and kiss every inch of her, to sink deep inside her and make her his once more.  Belle’s hands slid around to pluck at the buttons of his pyjama shirt, and he let her open it, let her push it from his shoulders and down his arms. Her hands explored him, fingers stroking over the muscles of his chest, her thumbs rubbing over his nipples and making him gasp into her mouth.  One hand left her hair, sliding down over her shoulder to cup her breast, and Belle moaned and pushed into his palm, her tongue teasing his.

His hand slid lower, brushing her skin beneath the edge of her top, and she gasped, her breath hot against his lips, leaning back to encourage him to slide the hand inside.  He felt the smooth curve of her breast, squeezing her gently, a growl of approval coming from him at the feel of her skin beneath his hand. She broke the kiss, pulling back and tugging the top over her head, and he let out a low groan at the sight of her.  Moonlight shone on her breasts, her nipples dark and taut, and he reached up to cup her, kissing her again. She shifted closer, getting on her knees on the bed, straddling him so that she was pressed up against him, and he knew that she would feel him, hard against her core through the thin pants she wore.  As if to prove it, she circled her hips a little, grinding against him and making him groan. There was wetness there, soaking through the fabric, through the silk pants he wore, and he wanted to touch her.

He pulled his mouth from hers, kissing down her neck, sucking at the point where her pulse throbbed against his lips, a wonderful, rhythmic reminder of the fact that she was real, and alive, and there in his arms.  His mouth moved lower, sucking a nipple in between his lips, and Belle arched her back with a cry, her head rolling as he sucked at her. His hands slid around to cup her rear through the pants, tugging her against him as his tongue swirled over her nipple, and Belle raked her fingers over his scalp, making him shiver, making him burn for her.  His mouth trailed across to her other breast, and his tongue circled the nipple before he sucked it into his mouth, his teeth grazing her and making her moan.

She was pushing against him, her body rocking as he sucked and squeezed, and he slid a hand beneath the waistband of her pants, sliding over smooth, hot skin and between her legs.  Belle let out a tiny cry as he touched her, slippery fluid coating his fingers as he drew them through hot, wet flesh. He let out a low growl, saliva running over his chin as her nipple slipped from his mouth, and Belle lowered her head, her fingers catching in his hair and pulling his head back to gaze up at her.  Her eyes were dark with desire, her chest heaving, her lips full and moist.

“Take them off,” she whispered, and moaned as he stroked her again. “Please!”

She bent to kiss him, her tongue flicking over his upper lip before sliding into his mouth, and he tugged her against him and rolled, pushing her onto her back.  He began kissing his way down, his fingers pushing her pants over her hips, the scent of her arousal making his cock twitch and his mouth water. He pulled the pants off at her feet, and after a moment shed his own, tossing them aside and running his hands back up her legs.  She was perfection, her skin pale blue in the moonlight, and he ran his eyes over the curves and hollows he knew so well, the mounds of her breasts and the shadow of her navel, her belly taut, the cleft between her thighs glistening with fluid.

He gently pushed her legs apart, kissing her mound, his tongue darting out to taste her.  Belle rose up off the bed with a whine of pleasure, fingers dropping to twist in his hair, and he groaned as her flavour burst on his tongue, salt and sweetness, the taste of love and home and  _her_.  He licked her slowly, feeling the hard nub of her clit as his tongue swept over her.  A finger pushed inside her, making her moan, and he kept it there, feeling her tighten and pull on him as his tongue worked.  His thumb flickered over her, rubbing at her clit in between the swipes of his tongue, and Belle whimpered, her thighs gripping his head, her fingers tugging at his hair.  He could hear her heavy breathing, could sense the tiny changes in her body that meant that she was close, and he kept up his rhythm, stroking and swirling, his finger thrusting, his thumb rubbing, until she came with a cry, clenching around his finger as her body jerked.

He kissed her reverently, drawing out the finger to suck her juices from it, letting out a low rumble of pleasure at the familiar taste of her.  She was panting for breath, and he began kissing his way back up her body, spreading the scent of her across her skin and in his hair, covering himself in her.  She moaned as his lips pulled at her, her fingers stroking through his hair, and he kissed up her neck and along her jaw, pushing himself up on his elbows to gaze down at her.  He was hard and straining, pushed up against her, desperate to be inside her, and she reached up with gentle fingers to stroke his cheek, to run her thumb over the swell of his lower lip.

“I missed you,” she whispered, and he wanted to cry.

She pushed at his shoulder then, and he recognised the hint to roll over onto his back.  He lay back against the cool cotton of the pillows, and Belle straddled him, taking him in hand to guide him inside her.  He arched upwards with a groan, feeling her scalding heat as he slid deep, and she braced herself on his belly with her palms, finding her balance before she started to rock slowly back and forth.  She felt exquisite, and he ran his hands up her thighs to grip her hips, closing his eyes as sensations rippled through his body from the pull and tug of her flesh against his.

When he looked up at her, she was breathing heavily, beautiful as a goddess, dark hair bouncing around her shoulders as she rocked against him.  He sat up, an arm going around her waist to tug her close and a hand sinking into her curls as he kissed her neck. Belle quickened her pace a little, her movements harder, letting him slide out almost all the way before thrusting back in, and they were both panting, perspiration forming between them as they ground together.  He drew his tongue up the length of her throat, and she let her head roll back with a moan as he nipped at her ear.

“I love you, Belle,” he whispered.  “I love you, I love you.”

Tears were pricking his eyes, threatening to well up and spill over, and he reached up to cup her face as she gazed at him.  His damp fingers brushed her hair back, his nose gently rubbing against hers in a gesture of affection, and he kissed her, pushing up inside her, making her moan as she ground against him.  Her pace was quickening, her climax approaching, and she pulled her mouth free, pressing her brow to his as she gasped for breath. The first of his tears tracked wet, sinuous paths down his cheeks, and Belle reached up to wipe them away with her thumbs, kissing away the next that fell.  His lower lip trembled, emotions that he had buried for too long rising up and boiling over.

“I missed you, sweetheart,” he whispered.  “Oh gods, I missed you so much!”

Belle kissed him again, moaning against his mouth as her hips bucked.  She cried out, and he cradled her head in one hand, burying his face in her neck as he felt her come, felt her clamp down on him, felt the heat of her fluids running down over him as she thrust against him.  Belle moaned and writhed, hands buried in his hair, and he held her close until she slowed and stopped, her breath coming hard in her chest.

She swallowed hard, her eyes flicking open to meet his, and he felt the tears run down his face again.  Belle nuzzled his nose with hers as she hushed him gently, a low, soothing sound.  She kissed him softly on each cheek, and he tasted salt on his lips as she pressed her mouth to his.  He was still buried within her, and he wanted her, wanted to come deep inside her, to bear her down on the bed and pour himself into her.  Her lips pulled at his as they parted, and she stroked his cheek, a tender expression in her eyes.

“Take me,” she whispered, and he kissed her, rolling until she was beneath him once more.

She raised her knees, and he sank into her with a groan, thrusting deep as he reached up to push his fingers through her hair.  Her back arched as he moved his hips in a slow circle, grinding against her, and she moaned at the feel of it, hands stroking up his back, nails scoring his skin.  She raised her head to kiss him, her tongue touching his, and he kissed along her jaw and down her neck, sinking his teeth into her and making her moan.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he breathed against her skin.  “Always and forever. I love you.”

Tears were spilling over again, his cheeks wet with them, and he pushed up onto his elbows to look down on her, his lip trembling with emotion as he wept for it all.  For the lost years, and his shattered hopes. For the second chance her return granted. For the times they had hurt one another, for the laughter and tears and all the nights they had spent like this one. For the future they might just have. For Gideon. For Baelfire. For life and hope and the deepest, truest love that could transcend realms and laugh at Death. For her.

He could feel the bliss rising up through him, and he made his thrusts slower, longer, grinding against her, wanting her to fall with him.  Belle had wrapped her legs around his back and was moving in time with him, her flesh tugging at him, her back arching, pushing her breasts up into his chest.  A wave of ecstasy was building, threatening to sweep him away and drown him, and he kissed the fingers that she stroked over his lips, his tongue dancing over her fingertips.

“Oh,  _gods_ , Belle!” he gasped.  “I’m coming!”

“Yes!” she whispered, her thighs squeezing his sides.  “Come inside me! Deep inside me!”

He threw his head back with a loud cry as he came, spurting up inside her and hearing her answering moan as she gripped him tight.  Lights burst in his head, a myriad of colours, and he felt as though electricity was dancing over his skin, tingling and burning wherever it touched, leaving him blind and breathless.  He was still pulsing inside her, and she was squeezing him, pulling every drop from him. He let out a final, shuddering sigh, pressing his forehead to hers as he tried to catch his breath, and she held him close, her legs loosening their grip and slipping back down from around his back.

For a moment there was only the sound of their heavy breathing.  Their bodies were slick with sweat and sticky with salt, and he inhaled deeply, drawing in the scent of her.  Belle reached up to cup his face, pressing her mouth to his in a gentle kiss, and let out a contented sigh as she let her head fall back against the pillows.

“Hey,” she said softly, and it made him want to cry all over again.

“Hey.”


End file.
